I first met Ray Nelson in the summer of 1988, when I joined the San Gabriel Valley Tribune sports staff. It didn’t take long for him to make me feel at home, or to feel like a part of the Tribune sports family.

I never heard him say an unkind word about anyone, utter a curse word on deadline or bitch about anything. Among journalists, that’s rare, believe me.

But Ray Nelson was indeed rare. Actually, he was probably about as close to a saint as anyone I’ve ever met.

Everybody loved him and he loved everybody.

I quickly came to realize Ray was the glue of the sports department. But he was more than that. Like the tin man in the “Wizard of Oz,” I often felt Ray gave the Tribune sports department its heart.

We were a band of brothers who occasionally had our differences but were able to get along like family in large part, I believe, because of Ray.

His example encouraged us to be better men than we probably would have been if we hadn’t known him and worked closely with him.

There were no factions and no cliques. There couldn’t be, because Ray was part of the group and everybody wanted to be part of Ray’s group. At least that’s how I saw it then and still see it now.

Ray had every right to be a bitter man, too. He contracted polio as a child. His growth stunted, he used a motorized wheelchair for as long as I knew him. I’m sure he had more health issues than I will ever know or could ever imagine.

But nothing really ever confined Ray. His spirit was not dampened by any of his health issues. He lived life to the fullest and did everything he wanted, things that I would have never even tried if I had faced the obstacles he did.

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He covered high school sports, attending games and writing stories. He designed sports pages, copy edited stories, wrote headlines and worked as hard on deadline as anybody I have ever worked with.

He loved the ponies and had a knack for spotting long shots. He had been one of our thoroughbred handicappers for many years and made annual pilgrimages to Del Mar each summer with his “brother” Art Wilson.

He had an exceptional sense of humor and loved to laugh. Sportswriter Frank Welch, who we lost 10 years ago this week, would keep Ray and the rest of us in stitches. To Frank, Ray was always “Little Buddy.”

Ray was everybody’s little buddy, but so much more than that.

And now he’s gone. Ray passed away Tuesday morning, not long after watching his beloved Dodgers beat the Atlanta Braves to advance to the National League Championship Series.

His friends have shed and will continue to shed tears of sorrow for this gentle soul we all loved.

And yet there is solace in knowing that Ray is now free from all the health issues that would have defeated a lesser man.

Thank you for your friendship, Ray. But above all, thank you for the tremendous example you were to me and everyone else who knew you.

About the Author

Steve Hunt is managing editor/content center for the Los Angeles News Group and supervising editor of the San Gabriel Valley Newsgroup. Reach the author at Steve.Hunt@sgvn.com
or follow Steve on Twitter: @stevehuntsgvn.